Chapter 15
fifteen
I shift position, leaning against the wall behind me. A sharp elbow in my ribs jerks me upright.
“You’re supposed to stand straight,” Julian hisses.
“Who says?” I whisper back.
“Me.”
“Oh well then, obviously, I’ll do as I’m told. God, this is boring.”
We’re standing in the same room where I saw Mac for the first time, and as I look around, I can almost see us as we were—Julian and I here, and Mac a distant stranger at the poker table.
The poker table has been removed for the event, and a band now stands in its place playing jazz.
Gold and black balloons and streamers decorate the room and move gently in the breeze.
It's the same but different. I smile slightly. A bit like me and Mac because he’s no longer that cold stranger.
Even as I think that I look for him. He’d left me with Julian and disappeared into the increasingly raucous crowd about half an hour ago, muttering about needing to speak to another member.
I finally locate him. He’s talking to a group of men and looks very fine in his dark suit.
“What’s that mark on your cheek?” Julian mutters out of the corner of his mouth.
I smile at him. “Tyler. He turned up at the flat.”
“ Shit .” A few people nearby glance at us, but when he engages the starers with a glacial smile, they turn away. “What happened?”
I shrug. “He tried to punch Mac. Mac had better luck with him. Then I got in the middle, and Tyler whacked me. It doesn’t even hurt.”
“What did Mac say? Does he know about your brother’s situation?”
“He does now.”
“Oh no.” His forehead pleats and he bites his lip.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Why do you look so worried?”
He smooths his expression. “No reason.”
I sigh loudly. “Julian, just tell me.”
“Well, it’s not wise to let daylight in on the magic, so to speak. These men don’t want to know real life because we’re selling them a dream of compliance and someone always willing. A happy hole if you like.”
“It’s not like that with me and—” I bite down hard on my lip.
He turns to me, raising his eyebrow. “What did you say?”
I edge my finger around my collar. “Nothing.”
“We’re going to address this later at a better time.”
“Of course we are,” I say glumly which startles a laugh out of him.
As they’ve done a hundred times this evening, my eyes travel to Mac.
He glances up at me as if he feels my attention, and I smile and give him a very subtle wink.
One of his eyebrows rises a millimetre, and I can read his thoughts exactly.
Cheeky. The lines around his mouth ease into something that might be called a smile.
My chest warms, because I love that I can distract him, even in a room full of people.
Suddenly, his eyes widen. His gaze is fixed on the room’s entrance, and I turn to look. A new boy has entered the room.
He’s beautiful, with thick, blond hair and clear, tanned skin. His lips are pouty and his eyes very blue. His lithe, long body is draped in a beautiful suit, and it’s not unlike what Julian and I are wearing, but something sets him apart, as if he’s wearing couture and on a runway.
But it’s not his appearance that arrests me.
It’s Mac’s reaction. His mouth drops open slightly when he locks gazes with the boy.
The younger man inclines his head, and Mac looks away.
Mac’s face is closed once more, but I know him.
I can see a nerve ticking in his cheek, and that startled recognition I saw on his face makes something cold trickle down my spine.
An old Shakespearean phrase comes to mind, making me shiver—something wicked this way comes.
Even as I watch, the young man glides through the crowd and ends up standing in front of Mac.
He raises his head almost shyly and for a long moment they stare at each other, and then Mac’s face softens into a smile.
Nausea curdles in my belly because that’s my smile—the soft, crooked grin where he looks almost fond.
I thought for some silly reason that I was the only one he looked at like that.
“Who’s that?” I whisper to Julian, who’s been exchanging smiles with an obviously smitten man.
Julian subtly turns his gaze to follow mine. “Oh, that’s Brandon. I wasn’t aware that he knew Mac.” He looks the boy up and down. “He looks well. I haven’t seen him in ages. Word had it that a bloke was keeping him for a while. Why do you want to know?”
“No reason.”
I covertly examine Mac and the boy again.
Brandon. The men that Mac was talking to have gone and it’s now just the two of them.
Mac is saying something, and Brandon is staring up at him hanging on to his words.
There’s a hungry, almost greedy expression on his face.
I stare at Mac, willing him to look back at me, to connect in the knowing, humorous way we’ve done since the start.
But he’s watching Brandon intently, and I can’t read his expression.
Even as I watch, Brandon reaches out his hand and sets it on Mac’s arm.
I wait for Mac to throw it off and say something sharp, but he doesn’t.
He stays completely still for a second and then he reaches up and puts his hand over Brandon’s and leans in saying something.
I swallow hard and then make myself look around the room.
I even post a smile on my face as if this is the best party I’ve ever attended.
I want to look as carefree as possible so if Mac looks for me, he’ll think that I’m not bothered.
But when I look over, he’s still talking to Brandon.
I frown. There’s an intensity between them that I can almost feel.
It’s an awareness and a deeper connection that zings between them and it’s as bright as the sun.
Maybe no one else would notice but I do and that’s because it’s the way I think about me and Mac.
Jealousy sears through me so fast I feel almost dizzy.
I glance quickly around the room and jerk as I see a man gazing at me very intently.
He’s someone I met my first time here. I rack my brains for his name—Ian Harris.
He’s leaning against the fireplace, sweat standing out on his forehead, and when he catches my gaze, he lifts his glass in a mocking salute.
Ugh. Does he think I’m available? I look at Mac and Brandon who are talking intently and a horrible thought occurs.
Why did Mac want to come here tonight? He’d been so strange about the whole affair.
Was it to see Brandon? He seems to have forgotten my existence completely.
Am I looking at my replacement? My stomach tightens ominously, and I’ve abruptly had enough of being on show.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I whisper to Julian.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
I walk out of the room and into the corridor. After entering the bathroom, I lean back against the door for a few seconds. “ Fuck ,” I breathe. My brain feels like a washing machine with all my thoughts tumbling around.
A door opens to one of the stalls, and a young man appears. He smiles automatically but when he sees how I’m standing, his smile fades. “Alright?” he asks.
“Oh yes, sorry. I’m blocking the way.” I jump away from the door and head to the sink, leaning on the counter and looking into the mirror. After the man leaves, I let out a long breath and watch my reflection do the same.
My appearance doesn’t look any different than usual.
Odd, because I feel like a different man from the one who’d stood here months ago.
I’ve fallen completely and irrevocably in love with the man I’d met that first night, and I know that’s changed my life forever.
For better or worse, I’m not sure. Either way, I look very young and worried.
With a heavy sigh, I push my hair away from my forehead.
The door opens and Julian enters the room. I meet his gaze in the mirror. “Aren’t you supposed to be outside standing to parade attention and polishing your bayonet?”
“Very funny. I think you’ll find it’s already polished to perfection.” He walks casually by the stalls, scanning the open doors. Satisfied, he perches his arse against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. “Spill. What’s up?”
“Nothing’s the matter.”
He blows a raspberry. “Try again.” He eyes me. “I have to say I was surprised to see you here.”
“Why?”
“Because Mac strikes me as being rather possessive of you. I wouldn’t have thought he’d want you anywhere near this cattle market.”
I perk up a little. “Really? He’s possessive?”
“Yes. Well, look at you. He met you and immediately wanted an arrangement with you. Within a few days, he had you in a flat he owned. Not something he’s ever done.”
I let those words soothe me a little. Mac’s never had this sort of arrangement with anyone else. Surely that has to mean something. I run my finger along the marble counter’s edge, letting the sharp, cool stone bite into my fingertip. “He’s special, Julian.”
He groans. “Oh my god, please, not that .”
“What?”
“You’re in love with him.” He scans the empty stalls again, as if double-checking for eavesdroppers. “Tell me. When did you fall for him?”
I think about denying, but what’s the use? “I don’t know when. I knew for sure in Paris.”
“And that’s another thing. He took you on a work trip. He doesn’t seem the type.”
“It wasn’t only work. He took a day off to be with me.”
His eyes widen and something about his stunned expression gives me a sliver of hope.
Maybe I’m being silly over Brandon. It’s just that I thought the connection I share with Mac was as different for him as it was for me.
Seeing him with the other man has shaken me a bit—made me feel like I’m standing on uneven ground.
“That’s not normal behaviour, is it?” I ask hopefully.
He shrugs. “Well, it doesn’t happen to me anyway. I stay strictly in the bedroom when I go on work trips.”
“They make you stay in the bedroom all that time ?”